


Loyalty

by unrealityfreak



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Self Harm, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-19
Updated: 2012-10-19
Packaged: 2017-11-16 15:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrealityfreak/pseuds/unrealityfreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All John wants is for Dave to be happy. No matter what Dave wants from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like this very much, but it needed to be written one day, so I wrote it. It's been just kind of languishing in my writing folder for about a month, but I don't care enough to keep it hidden anymore. So here: take it and judge it and maybe even enjoy it?

At first it was just a sacrifice made for a friend. Something casual. Nothing John wanted, of course, but it didn't kill him to indulge in Dave's fantasies once it was all out in the open. He even looked forward to it sometimes, because Dave would get so twisted up over such a little thing, and it was easy to make fun of him, laugh at the way he so desperately wanted this.

As time wore on, what started as innocent kisses morphed into something else entirely. It became less and less easy to brush off the ghost of Dave's touch on his skin, to will away the lingering tingle. The first time Dave tried to take his shirt off, he let him. Returned the favour, if only to make it even and to give him the opportunity to make fun of Dave's physique, the way his freckles got a little more prominent every summer. The first time Dave went for his pants, he couldn't do it. The dark murmur in the back of his head grew into a firm denial, and he felt it flow through him and out his mouth. Dave had immediately backed off, and the rest of that night had been tense and uneventful. He felt guilty enough not to let the protest out from behind his teeth the next time Dave's fingers slid under his waistband.

The dark murmur became louder. Grew into something akin to waves beating a shoreline, then swelled to low wailing when they started having sex. John didn't know why he allowed it to happen, but he couldn't bring himself to tell Dave no. It made him so damn happy. So he swallowed every shudder under the other boy's touch and turned his cries of disgust into ones that, he hoped, sounded like pleasure. Every chance he got, he turned pillow talk into playful banter. That part was easy enough. But soon he had to start asking to spoon instead of cuddling face-to-face; Dave may not be much of a romantic, but the look in his eyes is always the same when he's aiming his gaze at John, and he doesn't wear his shades after sex.

He puked for the first time when Dave said I love you. Somehow, he'd been able to distance himself from the whole charade until those three nasty little words drove it home. Dave was in love with him. Dave wanted to fuck him. Dave _was_ fucking him. And he was just sitting back and taking it.

Some days were worse than others. Some days, he could feel the filth crawling under his skin for hours after Dave touched him, and he had to make an excuse to get the hell out of there before the retching started. Others, he couldn't even pretend. The minute Dave started making advances, he'd act like his phone had buzzed in his pocket, lie about his dad needing him to come home. Control the speed of his departure; as much as he wanted to run, he had to seem like he was reluctant to leave.

Rose figured it out pretty quickly. Dave had told her they were a thing, and just reading her congratulatory text on the screen made him feel queasy. When his response was evasive, she must have chalked it up to shyness. When he continued to stonewall her on the subject, she surely began to suspect. When she asked him about it in person, there's no way she didn't notice the slight grimace he tried to turn into a smile. She never called him out on it. As far as he knew, she never said anything to Dave, either. He still aimed that puppy-dog look John's way whenever his eyes were bare, still touched his naked body as slowly as you please, whispering against his hair too quietly to make out the words. Those words haunted him inside his head at night, when Dave lay next to him and he could feel the evidence of what they'd done seeping into his bones.

One day he resorted to scratching himself, trying to burn off the impurity with friction. He wasn't really aware of it until Dave said something offhanded and then kissed him, right on the irritated patch of skin he'd just begun to feel good about, contaminating the new layer of skin and undoing all his work. That was the first time he wanted to hit Dave. To make him hurt, to punish him for putting him in this unfair position. But then Dave smiled up at him and made an insulting joke and John just couldn't hate him. Couldn't do anything but fight back the sob rising in his throat and stop his scratching, resume life as usual, continue to fuck his best friend and loathe himself for it.

As long as Dave was happy.


End file.
